


Snowdrops in Winter

by writeanddrawthis



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Artist Hubert, Awkward Romance, Byleth is still mysterious but has more personality, Eventual Romance, F/M, Modern AU, i put this rating as teen being of cursing, this fic will have humor angst romance the whole enchilada, unbeated we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-11-07 22:49:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20825102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeanddrawthis/pseuds/writeanddrawthis
Summary: Hubert Von Vestra, artist of the century, retreats to a cottage in the heart of Faerghus to draw and heal from a tragedy in his past. However, when he find a mysterious woman out in the snow with secrets and baggage of her own, Hubert realizes his plans of total seclusion are about to crumble.





	1. Woman in the snow

**Author's Note:**

> A certain Huleth fic on this site has opened my eyes to the beauty of this pairing that I had to write my own. When I was little, I used to read my mom's cheesy romance novels (which I had no business reading) and that turned me into the hopeless romantic I am today. So, here is my attempt at writing a fic to satisfy my need for cheesy, sappy Huleth romance that is probably an accumulation of all the sappy romance novels I've read. Live your dreams, guys.

Snow bombarded the windows of the black jeep, fortifying a wall of white despite the wipers frantic sweeps. The wind also howled violently, ramming against the car with every gust as if attempting to hurl it over the ravine.   
However, after months of braving Faerghus’ infamous eternal winter, Hubert maneuvered through the storm like a pro.   
Still, the curl of his leather-clad fists on the wheel, and the tension in his spine indicated he hadn’t let his guard down. One lapse in concentration and this ‘simple’ trip from the grocery store would turn fatal in a flash. Although he didn’t intend to live forever, Hubert didn’t feel like dying without drinking some coffee first.   
Shifting to the next gear, the Jeep weaved down the incline that led out of the forest. All that was left was to cross the river, and he would be back at his cottage. There, he would toss a few logs on the fire, brew that long awaited pot of coffee, and maybe work on that sketch from this morning. It had been a while since Hubert had been seduced by the desire to draw, and while it was a far cry from how he used to be, it was something. Perhaps Ferdinand and Dorthea were correct when they advised him to spend some time outside of Enbarr—well, advised was perhaps too gracious a word since they all but kicked down his door and packed his bags for him.   
“We are not going to sit by and let you waste away!” Dorothea declared as she searched for his passport while Ferdinand lugged his body from the bed to the bathroom, gently informing Hubert that he ‘reeked to high Heaven’. Hubert didn’t have to will to argue and simply allowed them to do as they wished. As the bitter cold nipped at his gaunt cheeks upon his arrival in the Tailtean Plains of Fareghus, Hubert briefly wondered if his friends intended to send him to an icy grave under the guise of a recuperation trip. But, as the fresh air cleared his throat and the sounds of nature drowned out his sorrows, Hubert began to understand why they had sent him here, and gradually, he began to function again.   
Although, Ferdinand and Dorothea probably didn’t intend of him to stay in Faerghus for six months.   
But he wasn’t ready to go back yet. Just for a while longer, Hubert wanted to stay in this snow globe.  
Away from Enbarr.  
Away from Von Vestra manor.  
Away from—.  
No! He had come here to escape his feelings, to draw and paint until he was numb like the cold outside.   
Like how he used to be—or rather, how others viewed him.  
It baffled strangers how little Hubert Von Vestra, artist of the century and ‘father’ of the Surrealist-Romanticism Movement, was attune with his emotions outside of a paintbrush and sketchpad. It was only his handful of friends who knew of Hubert’s true nature buried under the layers of aloofness and macabre mirth. And…there had been only one who dared to call him honorable.  
But, she was gone now, leaving Hubert to pick up the shards as they dug into his skin.  
Spying the bridge’s faint outline in the distance, a sigh slipped from his chapped lips as he ran a hand down his angular face.   
Just a little longer and he could return to his solitude. The only reason he ventured to Fhirdiad was to stock up on supplies before the storm transformed into a blizzard—a lesson he had brutally learned during his first month there.   
The bridge groaned as the tires rolled across the wood, but Hubert knew it would hold in place. If it didn’t, then the real estate agent would quickly learn just how proficient Hubert was with a palette knife.  
Whether that was a morbid joke or not, well, sometimes not even his friends could distinguish between the two.   
As the jeep crossed the halfway point, the snow had finally started to let up, allowing Hubert to clearly see what was in front of him.   
Icicle, icicle, pile of snow, someone kneeling next to the railing, icicle, pile of—.  
The jeep nearly skid through the railing as Hubert slammed on the brakes and whirled around to stare out the backseat window.   
It wasn’t a figment of his imagination, there really was someone next to the railing and had been for quite a while judging by the blanket of snow piled on top of them. The sound of the jeep had caused them to stand up and, though their face was shrouded by a muffler, Hubert could feel their gaze burning into his.   
No one else lived within ten miles of his cottage, and anyone who was walking around in a snowstorm had to be insane.   
Checking to make sure his hunting dagger was nestled at his waist, Hubert put the car into park and threw the door open. The wind nearly body slammed him over the railing, but he dug his heels into the wood and pressed forward, popping his collar over his cheeks.  
As Hubert drew closer, he noticed the figure was a good head shorter than him and was carrying a worn leather suitcase. Their choice in apparel was a mismatch of colors—an oversized black coat that reached their heels, a pair of brown hiking boots three sizes too large, yellow knitted gloves, a green muffler, and a pink hat with a pom pom. Hubert wasn’t a detective, but he deduced this person had done their shopping at a lost n found.   
‘Fantastic,’ Hubert groaned under his breath. ‘I leave for an hour and find a homeless nutjob on the property.’   
“Who are you?” The figure uttered once he was in reaching distance.  
“That is what I wanted to ask you.” Hubert fired back, momentarily taken aback by the soft, feminine voice that greeted him. “This is private property, and you have no business being here unless you have some vile intentions.” He palmed at his dagger and leered down at her like a vulture before a mouse. “So answer me. Why are you here?”  
Putting down her suitcase, the woman reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a frozen piece of parchment.  
“Forgive the intrusion, sir.” She apologized frankly, not at all perturbed by Hubert’s menacing aura. “I was searching for the main road, and I must’ve gotten turned around in the storm.” She held up the parchment to his face, and Hubert recognized it was a map of Faerghus. “How far am I from the capital?”  
“Fhirdiad is thirty miles past the forest.” He pointed to the opposite end of the bridge, curiosity overshadowing the wariness in his chest. “You are a long way off from the main road, much less civilization.”   
“Oh, I see.” She slowly retracted her arm like a deflating balloon. “My mistake.”  
A million questions invaded Hubert’s mind regaring his mysterious woman before him.  
Who was she? Where did she come from? Why did she want to go to the capital? What was she running from? She had to be running from something if she was desperate enough to trek through the snow with nothing but mismatched cloths and a secondhand suitcase.   
“Um,” The woman spoke up again, suitcase back in hand. “Do you live at the end of this bridge?”  
“What business is that of yours?” Hubert crossed his arms with a furrowed brow.  
“I was hoping you would let me use your bathroom. You see, I stumbled into a creek a while back and I would like to change before I turn into a human popsicle.” She gave a humorless laugh at that, stopping when Hubert didn’t return the action. “And I would like to call for a cab. I promise not to impose on you for long, and I don’t have much money to spare but I can compensate you for your time.”  
Hubert remained silent as he studied the woman before him again, realizing her clothes were damp and she was trembling like a leaf in the wind.   
Now, he had been called standoffish in the past, but no one ever called him heartless. Besides, if this woman really was a serial killer in disguise, he was confident he could defend himself easily.   
“Get in.” He gestured to the car before turning on his heel and trudging back. “No point in having a corpse on my property.”  
“A-Ah! Thank you, sir!” The woman shuffled after him, the uplift in her tone informing him that she was smiling.   
Unlocking the passenger door, Hubert slid back into the driver’s seat and was about to put the jeep into drive when he realized the woman hadn’t gotten in yet. Instead, she was standing next to the passenger door, shifting back and forth like a lost child.  
“Is there a problem?”   
“Um….” She clutched the handles of her suitcase with a death grip while staring at her feet. “Could….could you help me get in?”   
Hubert gaped at her for a moment, wondering how much of her brain had frozen over, before sighing and trekking back outside. Marching over to the passenger’s side, he opened the door and placed her suitcase inside before placing a hand on her elbow and hip and hoisting her up. Hubert didn’t fail to notice her gasp when he touched her, but he chose not comment on it, instead focusing on something else entirely.   
It may have been the coat or the layers she was hopefully wearing underneath it, but she was rather heavy. Now he was by no means muscular, but he kept in shape. However, it wasn’t strange that she was heavy, but that the weight was centralized.   
Chalking it up as another question to add to the pile, Hubert handed the woman her seatbelt before rushing back to the driver’s side and shifting the jeep into drive. He cranked the heat up and angled one of the vents towards her, earning another gasp from her.   
“Thank you…” She whispered, holding her hands out to the heat. “I promise to compensate you accordingly.”  
“Keep your money; you obviously need it more than I do.” Hubert muttered. “Besides,” He peered at her from the corner of his eye. “You can pay me back by answering my questions later.”  
The woman didn’t reply, but Hubert noticed her posture stiffened ever so slightly.  
‘Curiouser and curiouser.’   
The jeep soon pulled into the cottage drive-way, and Hubert gestured for the woman to stay put while he went around to open the door for her. This time, he simply held his hands out and supported her as she slid out of the car.   
“Your house is beautiful.” The woman marveled as he opened the back door. “You are very lucky to live here.”  
Hubert just snorted as he closed the door, the suitcase in one hand and bag of groceries in the other.  
The cottage was a squat rectangle of wood with a porch and square-paned windows. Smoke puffed from the chimney in little clouds, and flat stepping stones formed a trail from the drive-way to the porch.   
“It does its job, nothing more. Here.” He offered her his arm that carried the suitcase. “It is slippery and you will be out of luck if you fall since the nearest doctor is at the capital.”   
“….Alright.” The woman gingerly grasped his arm before suddenly clung to it fully, this time drawing a gasp from him. “Thank you, sir.”  
“You are making me sound ancient.” He scoffed as they began to walk across the path. “My name is Hubert, just call me that.”  
“…..Okay. Thank you,…..Hubert.”   
At hearing her say his name, he slipped on the porch stairs, almost banging his head on the railing column if she didn’t reach out to steady him.   
“Are you alright?! You should be more careful.” The woman chided as they stood on the porch. “If you fall, you’ll be out of luck since the nearest doctor is at the capital.”   
Hubert glared down at her with red cheeks, not wanting to admit he found her teasing remarks a little endearing.   
‘Forget the coffee, I need a glass of wine.’ He unlocked the door and gestured for her to go in first before closing it behind them.   
Placing the bag and suitcase down on the nearby table, he dusted off the excess snow from his coat and boots while watching as she mirrored his actions in his peripheral vision.   
“The bathroom is down the hall to the right.” He informed, hanging his coat in the closet and placing his boots by the front door. “And don’t think about touching anything; I’ll know if you do.”   
The woman just nodded as she leaned against the wall and wiggled off her shoes, revealing a pair of fuzzy maroon socks.   
“I promise to keep my hands to myself.” She grabbed her suitcase and pattered down the hallway. “Thank you, Hubert.”  
He waited until the bathroom door closed before moving towards the fireplace and adding log after log. Soon the fire was roaring and he sighed as feeling returned to his limbs.   
“I’m going to brew some coffee.” He called out as he took the grocery bag to the kitchen and fished out the can of grounds. “How do you take yours?”  
“Three cubes of sugar and a dash of cream, please.” Her unmuffled voice replied from the doorway. “And some whipped cream too, if you have some.”  
“Whipped cream?” Hubert scoffed, turning around with the can in his hand. “Who puts—?”   
The jeer dancing on his tongue crumbled to ash, and his voice clogged in his throat as he finally beheld her face.   
She was beautiful, stunningly, ethereally beautiful.   
Her long dark blue hair framed her oval face like a lover’s caress, her wide cerulean eyes shone in the light yet were shadowed with mystique, and her full red lips caused him to unconsciously bite his own.  
The artist within him saw possibilities while the man within him was not so professional. Hubert, for the most part, cared little for matters of the flesh, but he wasn’t blind and was not immune to desire.   
However, as his eyes ventured down, all thoughts of her physical appearance shattered as his jaw dropped.   
It seemed one of his questions now had an answer.  
While she was very beautiful, she was also very pregnant.   
“Is something wrong, Hubert?” The woman stepped forward, concern evident in her gaze. “Are you feeling unwell?”  
“Holy shit,” was all he could say as the can slipped from his fingers and hit the floor with a solid thwack. “Holy shit.”


	2. The Man with Beautiful Eyes

The bitter cold burned her throat and her limbs were beginning to lose feeling, but the kick of the child within her pushed Byleth forward.  
Because for this child—_her child_, Byleth would gladly venture through the depths of Hell if it meant they would be safe, secure, free.  
Free from the past  
Free from those who dare to control them  
Free from _her_.  
“I will never let anything happen to you.” Puffs of air spilled out from her muffler as she weaved between the dense trees. “I promise you. As long as I’m alive, I will protect you.”  
But, as she lost her balance and teetered over into a shallow creek, Byleth realized she wasn’t doing a very good job of that. Perhaps she should’ve waited with the other passengers when the bus broke down, but Byleth couldn’t afford to remain idle when time was racing against her.  
What if she was found before reaching Faerghus?  
What if they dragged her back and made her—?!  
No! Byleth wouldn’t—couldn’t!—let that happen.  
She had to be strong; her baby needed her to be.  
The wind was vicious, but Byleth crawled to her feet and pressed forward with chattering teeth. Some would say she was stupid for cutting through the forest, but in Byleth’s defense the capital looked closer on the map.  
As consequence, the baby furiously kicked her with every step, yet Byleth took each blow as reparation for being such a horrible mother before her baby even took their first breath.  
‘Please hold on, my baby. Just a while longer and we will be somewhere warm. I’ll order us a big cup of hot chocolate with extra marshmallows and whipped cream, just as you like it.’  
Eventually she reached the outskirts of the forest and found herself beside a huge lake with a lone, wooden bridge.  
If she wasn’t so focused on getting to the capital, Byleth would’ve taken the time to marvel at the beauty. Although snow coated everything in sight, the scene was painted with shades of gray, blue, brown and green—nothing was pure white.  
The howling winds soured her eyes as she slowly ventured across the bridge in hopes that Faerghus was just on the other side.  
Unfortunately, her knees gave out halfway, and Byleth could only curse under her breath while the winds pelted her with snow.  
“Nothing will happen to you.” She cradled her bump through her coat, like a protective lioness to her cub. “As long as there is breath in my body, they will never lay a hand on you.”  
The reciprocating kick against her palm brought a smile to her face, and she began to hum softly.  
“Yes, I am allowed to smile, aren’t I? Whenever I want and at whomever I want.”  
The squeal of tires catapulted Byleth out of her daze, and she gazed up to find a Jeep a few yards from her.  
‘Oh no…’ Dread clawed up her spine as she used the railing to stand up. ‘Please don’t tell me they’ve found me already.’  
She was about to make a dash for it when the driver’s door flew open and a man climbed out.  
It wasn’t who she thought, but Byleth didn’t let her guard down as he drew closer.  
He was tall and apparently well-off judging by the quality of his trench coat and boots. Though his face was scrunched up against the wind, Byleth could see his chartreuse eyes shining against his pale skin.  
She had never seen eyes that color before.  
‘Beautiful,’ Byelth wanted to say but instead she asked him who he was.  
In return, he replied with thinly veiled hostility and even tried to intimidate her with a concealed dagger; all she could think was he had a nice voice too.  
Despite everything she had gone through, Byleth did not scare easily—unless it involved her baby of course.  
Taking this chance, Byleth asked how far she was from the capital, hoping it was just around the bend. But the man deflated her dreams by callously pointing out Faerghus was thirty miles out and they were in the heart of nowhere.  
She was at a crossroads and needed to make a decision stat: either follow the man’s directions and head to the capital or momentarily place her and her baby’s lives in this stranger’s hands so they could have shelter and plan their next move.  
The answer was obvious—she would not jeopardize her baby’s safety and though the man was tall, he wasn’t very built—Byleth was confident she could fight him off and escape if need be.  
Moms were tough after all.  
So she beseeched him for temporary shelter and a chance to call for a cab, expecting another threat or for him to simply maroon her.  
Instead the man agreed—albeit rather harshly—and Byleth couldn’t help the smile that grew across her face.  
Perhaps she should’ve been more guarded, but the thought of getting her baby out of the cold convinced her to take this stranger’s kindness at face value.  
Unfortunately, her mood dimmed significantly when she realized how high up the jeep was. Although she trusted the man to the extent of following him home, she didn’t want to expose her condition yet.  
At least not until her baby was covered in warm, dry clothes.  
So she beseeched him for help again, taking his judgmental gaze in stride.  
After he placed her suitcase inside, Byleth expected him to simply offer her his hand but was stunned when he hoisted her inside the car.  
For such an apparently callous man, his touch was rather gentle.  
As the man scurried back to the driver’s side, Byleth tried to extinguish the flutter in her chest—chalking it up to either heartburn or pregnancy hormones. It had to be either of those two since the third option was because it felt nice to be held after so lon—well, for the first time actually.  
No one had held her like that before.  
Not _him_.  
And not _her_.  
The man slid back into the car, and the fluttering sensation returned with full force when he turned the heat on and angled one of the vents towards her.  
‘Damn heartburn.’  
“Thank you.” She uttered, her hands flocking to the heat like a moth to a flame. “I promise to compensate you accordingly.”  
A majority of the cash hidden in her suitcase was strictly for the baby and hospital fees, but Byleth could sacrifice her clothing fund—the clothes she had found in the charity bin had done a passable job as far anyways.  
“Keep your money; you obviously need it more than I do.” He was very blunt, but Byleth was glad of that. Transparency meant honesty. “Besides,” The man continued and Byleth could feel his gaze on her. “You can pay me back by answering my questions later.”  
Ah, a more costly price he sought.  
Byleth didn’t answer, instead focusing on roasting her hands and sneaking peeks at the man.  
He wasn’t a conventionally handsome man, however Byleth hadn’t been around enough men to gauge if that was a fair assessment. His face was long and angular with prominent cheekbones and silky, raven black hair.  
To be honest, he reminded Byleth of Christopher Lee’s Dracula.  
Of course she hadn’t seen a lot of movies either so maybe that wasn’t the best comparison.  
Soon the jeep parked in front of a cottage and Byleth was about to open the door when the man held up a hand to stop her. The flutters rattled her chest when she realized he was going to open her door, but soon died out when he simply held his hands out.  
‘Damn hormones.’ She gently grasped his hands, noticing how large they were compared to hers. ‘Damn heartburn.’  
While he went to grab their bags, Byleth took the time to observe his cottage.  
It was simple, plain, nothing eye catching about it—it was perfect.  
But when she told him so, he just scoffed and she glared at him under her layers.  
‘Are all rich people like this? You just write checks and buy things just to have it?’  
However the bitterness on her tongue dissolved when he offered her his arm.  
“It is slippery, and you will be out of luck if you fall since the nearest doctor is at the capital.”  
He said it frankly, but she could detect a smidge of concern within his tone.  
The heartburn urged her to feel flattered, while the hormones commanded her to cling to his arm.  
Being pregnant was very confusing indeed.  
‘No….I can hold his arm if I want. I want to—I choose to. Because I am me….I am me…’  
“Thank you, sir.”  
“You are making me sound ancient.” The man grumbled as he led her across the stone path and towards the porch. “My name is Hubert, just call me that.”  
‘Hubert.’ Byleth rolled the name around her head. ‘And you say ‘sir’ makes you sound ancient.’  
But, the name suited him and besides, as someone with a strange name herself, she had no right to judge.  
“…Okay. Thank you,” The fluttering sensation tickled her chest as she tasted his name on her tongue. “Hubert.”  
Byleth took it back, she liked his name.  
Suddenly Hubert slipped on the top stair, nearly smacking his head against the column if Byleth didn’t have an iron grip on his arm.  
“Are you alright?” She yanked him back to his feet. “You should be more careful. If you fall, you’ll be out of luck since the nearest doctor is at the capital.”  
The flustered glare Hubert shot her way made Byleth smile, and she found that expression to be rather adorable on him.  
Hubert unlocked the door and herded her inside before locking it behind them. While he put the bags down, Byleth took in the cottage’s interior, her mouth falling open in awe.  
Paintings.  
Sketches.  
Oils.  
Watercolors.  
Charcoals.  
They were mounted on the walls, piled in the corner, scattered across the tables. Some were abandoned, others works in progress, and few were finished. One such was a still life from Rosanne, the famous Cherche III Bridge bathed in crimson twilight.  
Her father promised to take her there someday.  
‘Dad….’  
Banishing the thoughts away, Byleth quickly went to work swatting the snow off her clothes after noticing Hubert doing the same.  
“The bathroom is down the hall to the right.” Hubert wiggled off his coat, revealing a black turtleneck that showcased his slim form, and removed his boots—Byleth hoped he would remove his gloves as well but he did no such thing. “And don’t think about touching anything.” The intimidating leer returned to his face. “I’ll know if you do.”  
‘I preferred you more when you were blushing.’ Byleth sighed as she removed her shoes and grabbed her bag. “I promise to keep my hands to myself.” She felt his eyes burn into her back as she pattered down the hallway. “Thank you, Hubert.”  
Once the door was closed behind her, Byleth leaned against the wall with her face in her hands, a wave of exhaustion sweeping over her.  
‘Just a little while longer.’ She rubbed soothing circles over her belly. ‘Once I change, I’ll call a cab and we’ll be in Faerghus where we both can rest and drink all the hot chocolate we want. After that, we’ll….we’ll find your grandpa.’  
A lump formed in her throat, but she swallowed it and stripped down which was rather tedious due to the size of her belly.  
Hanging her wet clothes over the shower pole to dry, Byleth pulled out a blue fuzzy sweater and a pair of gray maternity leggings from her suitcase. The sweater was five sizes too big, but her bump still stood out.  
‘Here we go.’ Byleth took a few deep breaths before venturing back out, placing her suitcase by the bathroom door.  
The warmth of the fireplace beckoned her like a siren’s call to curl up in front of it but instead she trudged towards the kitchen where Hubert was digging a can of coffee grounds out.  
“I’m going to brew some coffee,” He called out, unaware she was standing behind him. “How do you take yours?”  
‘Moment of truth, Byleth.’ Taking one final deep breath, she answered with one hand bracing the door way and the other cradling her baby.  
He scoffed at her reply and turned around to no doubt ridicule her again when he froze in place.  
Byleth held her breath as his wide eyes scanned her face, not sure what to make of his reaction. Yet his eyes eventually made the accursed trip south, and she steeled herself when the color drained from his already pale face.  
“Is something wrong?” Byleth asked, knowing full damn well what was wrong. “Are you feeling unwell?”  
“Holy shit.” She winced when the baby kicked in reaction to the tin can slamming against the floor. “Holy shit.”  


* * *

  
It was not enough for that wretched Goddess to take Edelgard from him, now she had to torture him further by bowling a pregnant woman into his self-proclaimed solitude.  
Damn it all!  
“Hubert?” She took a step forward, halting in place when Hubert’s hand shot out to keep her away.  
“Wh-Wha-What the hell were you doing in the middle of a storm like that?!” He sputtered out, the complete opposite of his usual calm, composed manner. “And why didn’t you say anything earlier?!”  
“It wasn’t your business.” She shrugged slightly. “I didn’t plan on staying for long, just for a change of clothes and to use your phone.”  
Hubert’s pointer finger immediately shot towards the phone in the den, and he waited until she was out of sight before frantically pacing the kitchen with his head in his hands.  
‘It’s alright, Hubert. Get ahold of yourself. She will call for a taxi and be out of your life. You can go back to your paintings and carry on with your life. It’ll be fine, it’ll be fine, it’ll be—.’  
“Hubert, the phone is out.”  
Hubert’s soul regressed to dust as she poked her head around the corner.  
“And the storm has started up again.”  
As did his physical form.  
“I apologize, but may I impose on you for a while longer? Just until the storm blows over and the phones are back in service.”  
Hubert wanted to puke, damning all the deities he could recall.  
She fidgeted in the entranceway, still rooted in place before suddenly holding out her hand.  
“I am Byleth, by the way. I figure since you told me yours, I should tell you mine.” Then she pantomimed shaking his hand before smiling softly. “My baby and I thank you for your hospitality, Hubert.”  
Hubert felt his remaining skin particles flush red as he slumped against the counter in defeat.  
‘Oh Edelgard, what have I gotten myself into?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to make the second chapter about Byleth's side.  
I promise the next chapter will tackle some questions and be a bit more cute/fluffy.  
Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
